and drawing applausive crowds to the smithy. On the hill beside the
Cure's house was a little old cannon brought from the battle-field of
Ticonderoga, and its boisterous salutations were replied to from the
Seigneury, by a still more ancient piece of ordnance. Sixty of Valmond's
recruits, under Lajeunesse the blacksmith, marched up and down the
streets, firing salutes with a happy, casual intrepidity, and setting
themselves off before the crowds with a good many airs and nods and
simple vanities.

In the early evening the good Cure blessed and lighted the great bonfire
before the church; and immediately, at this signal, an answering fire
sprang up on a hill at the other side of the village. Then fire on fire
glittered and multiplied, till all the village was in a glow. This was a
custom set in memory of the old days when fires flashed intelligence,
after a fixed code, across the great rivers and lakes, and from hill to
hill.

Far up against Dalgrothe Mountain appeared a sumptuous star, mystical and
red. Valmond saw it from his window, and knew it to be Parpon's
watchfire, by the grave of his brother Gabriel. The chief procession
started with the lighting of the bonfires: Singing softly, choristers and
acolytes in robes preceded the devout Cure, and pious believers and
youths on horseback, with ribbons flying, carried banners and shrines.
Marshals kept the lines steady, and four were in constant attendance on a
gorgeous carriage, all gilt and carving (the heirloom of the parish), in
which reclined the figure of a handsome lad, impersonating John the
Baptist, with long golden hair, dressed in rich robes and skins--
a sceptre in his hand, a snowy lamb at his feet. The rude symbolism
was softened and toned to an almost poetical refinement, and gave to
the harmless revels a touch of Arcady.